


already choking on my pride (so there's no use crying about it)

by renwhit (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Again very brief and not very graphic but for safety reasons, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, I love mettaton but he really should not be king, The violence is not very graphic but i want you to be safe, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/renwhit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You could be doing so many better things, Sans. This society is going to collapse and you're going to aid in it."</i>
</p>
<p>Sans is his king's enforcer, head guard, and interrogator. Grillby is the gatekeeper for a brewing rebellion. Needless to say, there is a conflict of interests. <br/>Based on the King Mettaton neutral ending.</p>
<p>title from Castle by Halsey</p>
            </blockquote>





	already choking on my pride (so there's no use crying about it)

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! like it says on the tin, this whole fic is sans interrogating grillby for information. however, it only is physical for a short bit. stay safe!

"I didn't expect to see you here."

 

Sans laughed bitterly. "Yeah, you did, Grillby. You knew I was here."

 

"Yes," he conceded. "I did. And you knew I was part of a rebellion." Grillby involuntarily flexed a little against his restraints. They were freezing cold, and quite uncomfortable. 

 

"Sorry, buddy. You won't be melting out of those. They're tungsten carbide, same thing as the struts in the Core. Shot thought with some ice magic, too, so they're nice and cool. Melting point of about five thousand degrees, plus a few hundred more with the with the ice. It'd take even you a while to melt through."

 

"But I could."

 

"Yeah, but see, then I'd have to use this." Sans tapped the fire extinguisher in the floor next to him. "I'd really prefer not to hose you down, buddy, so just don't bother."

 

"Why are you here?" 

 

Sans barked out another laugh, short and a little angry. "Why? Why the hell do you think? I'd rather not end up in that chair, thanks. Rather be here, hangin' out with an old pal, than have the roles switched."

 

Grillby might have raised an eyebrow, it was hard to tell. "'Hanging out'? This is an interrogation session, Sans."

 

"Don't I know it." Sans leaned against the concrete wall behind him. The single bulb cast his face in dramatic shadows. "I don't want to be here, Grillbz. Just tell me what I need, and I'll be gone."

 

"But I will still be stuck here."

 

"Well, yeah. You'll be here until Mettaton decides to let you go. But you can avoid an extra level of... Unpleasantness."

 

"Unpleasantness," Grillby repeated dryly. 

 

"Heh. Interrogation. Unpleasantness. Whatever you want to call it."

 

"Torture?"

 

Sans looked away, eyes black pits. "I guess that's another name for it, too." He grit his teeth. "You sure you don't wanna tell me now?"

 

"I have people I am trying to protect, Sans. Families. Children. My own daughter. I am sure you understand. That's why you took this job, correct? Why you work for Mettaton?"

 

"Not sure you're supposed the one askin' questions here, pal." Sans walked around the chair Grillby was strapped to. There was a long screech as he twisted a rusty dial, causing a small stream of water to pour onto Grillby's head. The water seared its way down his neck, soaking into his filthy dress shirt. Everywhere it touched felt like ice, burning him in the worst way.

 

This was tolerable, though. He'd live.

 

"Feeling any more chatty?"

 

"You know I don't talk much, Sans."

 

Sans walks back around the chair to face him. "This is turning into a lot more work than I was hoping it'd be." 

 

"You thought I would turn everyone in, simply because you asked?"

 

He huffed a laugh. "Nah. I knew you wouldn't."

 

"I know you're just trying to protect Papyrus with this job."

 

Sans froze. "Shut up."

 

"I'm not asking questions. You're free to, of course. I won't ask any more. I'll just say this: I doubt you want him to live in a society crumbling as fast as this one. Mettaton covers everything with glitz and glamour, but you know that this is unsustainable. Our economy is collapsing, education is practically nonexistent, and a narcissistic robot with no common sense or any idea how to run a nation has declared himself our emperor. This isn't a future you want Papyrus to live in."

 

Sans face twisted in anger. "What do you want me to do, dammit? At least here he's _safe_. Out there, I can't guarantee that. Here he stands and looks cute and every once in a while talks down an assassin. With you guys, he'd take the dangerous jobs. He might end up where you are, and I can't let that happen."

 

"But is _this_ worth it?"

 

Sans gave a wry grin. "Thought you weren't askin' any questions." His voice dropped, as if speaking to himself. "If the kid would just _fucking_ reset..."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Nah, it's nothing. Now, you wanna talk yet? Tell me any names? Meeting places? Give me something, Grillbz. This isn't any fun for me."

 

"No fun for you? Pity, I'm really having a laugh tied to this chair with iced metal and a stream of water falling on me."

 

"Yeah, well," Sans bit out, "it's kind of my job to make sure you're having a bad time. Names?"

 

"A few of my associates have vanished recently. I'm sure it's safe to assume they're here. Why so much attention on me?" Grillby preferred the focus on him rather than anyone else, but he couldn't deny that he was curious.

 

"Buddy," Sans said, leaning against the grimy wall and probably ruining his suit. "We know you're the gatekeeper to whatever meeting place you guys have. We know you decide who gets to come in and who isn't trustworthy. Those associates of yours don't have anything else for us, they're too low on on the food chain."

 

"Did you 'hang out' with them, too?"

 

"It's my job, isn't it?"

 

"But you could be doing so many better things, Sans. This society is going to collapse and you're going to aid in it."

 

Sans paced, then kicked the wall in frustration. "God _damn_ it, Grillby! I told you why! I don't give a shit about anyone else here as long as Papyrus is safe and happy."

 

"We both know that's not true, Sans. Unless my friendship over the course of all those years meant so little to you."

 

Sans dragged his hands down his face, back to Grillby. He seemed to thinking hard, hands fidgeting and sweat beading on his skull. 

 

He whirled and punched Grillby in the face, hard. "Talk."

 

Grillby's glasses clattered to the ground, earning a few more cracks than they already had. "No."

 

They stared at each other, Sans's hands on the back of Grillby's chair. Sans could feel the heat coming off Grillby in waves, betraying the anger hidden by the smooth mask of flame.

 

Sans straightened. "I... I think we're done for the day." He went and shut off the water drip, then strode back to the door, brow furrowed. 

 

"Are you going to think about what I said?" Grillby asked quietly.

 

He paused at the door. He mouth worked, as if he was going to say something, then clenched shut. The door slammed behind him as he left.

 

Grillby let his head tilt back onto his chair, and tried to figure out how exactly to convince his best friend to join him.

 

\--

 

The next day (was it day? It was so hard to tell in this cell) dawned with the water drip being turned back on, splashing on Grillby's face and causing him to sputter and gasp. It was disconcerting that Sans had gotten inside without waking him.

 

"Morning, sunshine. How ya feeling today?"

 

"I've been better," Grillby grumbled, exhausted and more than a little stiff. It wasn't exactly easy to sleep while strapped to a chair.

 

"Feeling any more talkative today?"

 

Grillby didn't respond. Why should he?

 

"Did you know there are no cameras down here? No mics, either. Mettaton finds my methods... Distasteful, so he prefers not to know about it."

 

"Is that a threat?"

 

"An opportunity."

 

"An opportunity for what?"

 

"It means I can do _whatever_ I need to do to keep my job..." His eyes were black holes, so deep and empty that Grillby couldn't deny a thrill of fear. "Or."

 

"Or?"

 

"Or you can convince me that this is a bad idea. That your rebellion is the right way to go. That Papyrus would be safe."

 

Grillby sat forward. This was his chance. "Obviously, people get captured. Mettaton vanishes anyone who speakers against him." 

 

Sans raised an eyebrow. "Is this supposed to be convincing me?"

 

"I'm not finished. People get captured, yes, but without you and Papyrus, Mettaton's reign will be heavily crippled."

 

"You really think we're that important to him?"

 

"Of course. Papyrus is likable. People want to listen to him, and agree with him. When he tells people to stay hopeful, they want to. When he tells them to follow Mettaton, they will. Imagine if we had that force speaking against him. You're his powerhouse. You're a strong defender, and a kneecapper when you need to be. You're a one man security team, interrogator, and enforcer. 

 

"It's the old analogy of the carrot and the stick. Papyrus is the reward if people follow Mettaton. You're the punishment if they don't. Take away both, and suddenly, there is choice."

 

Sans's eyes were narrow. Considering. His face was otherwise blank, so it was impossible for Grillby to tell if his words were working.

 

"Who would you put on the throne?" Sans asked roughly. "Yeah, Mettaton shouldn't be king. Who should?"

 

Grillby tilted his head. "That's something people are still discussing. Personally, I believe we should do away with the monarchy, and have some sort of democracy. Others believe we should elect one king, then continue with a line of succession as usual."

 

"Any idea as to who that would be? I want to know who I'm backing."

 

There was a knock at the door. Sans shot upwards, then called, "One sec." He whispered an apology, then knocked over Grillby's chair. Grillby's head smacked the concrete and his vision filled with stars. When it cleared, Sans was by the dial, opening it just a hair. Water slowly dripped onto Grillby's face, right between his eyes. It hurt terribly, but not as badly as the stream from yesterday.

 

"Alright, come on in."

 

Mettaton breezed through the door, bright pink cloak swirling behind him. The crown on his head glittered in the low light. 

 

"Sans, darling, have you found anything worth my time yet?"

 

"No, Mettaton," Sans sighed. "You know I would have told you if I had."

 

"You're usually faster than this, hon."

 

Sans shrugged. "Guy's stubborn, pal."

 

It was clear they loathed each other.

 

Mettaton strutted to where Grillby lay, nose scrunched in distaste. "Hello, beautiful. How are you?"

 

Grillby glared.

 

Mettaton placed the heel of his bright pink boot on Grillby's throat. "Perhaps you didn't hear me, gorgeous. How are you?"

 

He still didn't respond.

 

"MTT, buddy. I've been with him for two days. If you think your go-go boots are gonna be the thing to break him, be my guest. But if you want answers faster, I suggest you leave so I can do my job."

 

"Sans, sweetheart, I think I misheard you. You couldn't be telling me what to do, could you?"

 

"It was a suggestion, friend."

 

"And what if I want to stay?"

 

"I mean, I can't stop you. You normally hate this kind of thing, though."

 

Mettaton's painted lips curled in a grimace. "I just know you and he are old friends. Maybe you could use some... Moral support."

 

"Are you doubting my loyalties?"

 

"I would never," Mettaton gasped. "I simply wanted to make sure you were doing all right."

 

"Well, I'm fine and dandy. You sure you want to stay? Don't wanna offend your delicate senibilities."

 

Mettaton waved a hand. "I'm tougher than you'd think-"

 

"So you'd say you've got a stomach of iron?" Sans winked.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Nothing, nothing. So you're staying, yeah? Alright. Let's get right to the point."

 

He looked at Grillby, who flared almost imperceptibly brighter. Hopefully, Sans got the message. Better to make sure Mettaton still trusted him until they could talk more.

 

Sans lifted his chair back upright, and walked back behind Grillby, then put his hands on Grillby's shoulders.

 

"Look. You've been here for a couple days. I'm sure your daughter is worried about you."

 

Well. Looked like he wasn't going to wait on the heavy hits.

 

"Wouldn't ya rather go home and be with her then here? Is this pointless cause really more important than family?"

 

Grillby didn't respond, but his chest ached. He hoped his daughter was safe.

 

"Nothin', huh? Guess you don't care about her as much as you like to think."

 

With that, Sans summoned a bone, then swung it around and cracked it into Grillby's chest. Even though he had no ribs to speak of, the blow rattled through him, as if it bruised him down to his very soul.

 

"C'mon, bud, I don't want to be here all day. My lunch break is soon, and I'm gonna be pissed if I miss it."

 

Water continued to run down Grillby's face, a constant source of pain. Mettaton's face was screwed up, as if he wanted to block his own vision. 

 

Sans summoned a line of sharpened bone fragments to hover above Grillby's arm. They floated gently, glowing a soft blue. 

 

"Names, Grillby. Locations. Even if you don't love your family, your cause has gotta be hurting without their gatekeeper."

 

Grillby strained uselessly against his bonds, nearly growling. He loved his daughter, that _bastard_ -

 

"Whoops, looks like I touched a nerve. Now, I've got five bones right here. Tell me a name, one goes away. Keep quiet, one goes through your arm. Got anything?"

 

Silence.

 

"Never were a big talker, were you? S'alright. Just means neither of us is getting lunch, is all."

 

A flick of Sans' hand, and the bone shard drove itself right into Grillby's arm, scraping the more solid magma core that his flames emanated from. He managed not to cry out, but couldn't withhold a sharp intake of breath.

 

"Hurt, don't it? Four chances left, pal. Got anything for me? Gimme a clue, my puzzle-solving skills could use _sharpening_. Get it? Sharpening? Sharp bones?"

 

Mettaton stared at Sans like he was insane. Grillby just glared. 

 

"Ouch. Tough crowd."

 

"Here's a clue for you," Grillby said suddenly. "Go to hell."

 

"Ooh, some sass." Sans grinned. "Got you talking, though. Now you just gotta say the words I want to hear."

 

Another gesture. Another spike of bone driven in. This time, Grillby couldn't hold back a grunt.

 

"Getting vocal. Ya know, if those noises were names instead of groans we'd already be done."

 

Mettaton's lips were pressed hard together, and his eyes were wide. His crown was slipping off, but he was too distracted to reach up and fix it. Green in the face was a useless expression for all three present, but Mettaton certainly looked nauseous.

 

The three remaining bones swirled gracefully above Sans's still-glowing hand. One paused, then went to float in front of Grillby.

 

"Ya know, this one doesn't have to go in your arm. It could be your... Leg, maybe?" The bone dragged its way across Grillby's thigh, the sharp edge pressing delicately into him. "Or a little higher?" It worked its way to his stomach, pressing a little more roughly. "I wonder if putting through your head would kill you? You're made of fire after all." The bone cut into his temple. "Honestly, I was a little surprised when the ones in your arm hurt you. I wasn't even sure that was going to work." Sans laughed quietly. "That would'a been embarrassing. Now, I think we'll try the head next-"

 

Mettaton's crown finally crashed to the floor. His face was slack, eyes round. "I... I need to be heading off now, b-beauties. Important king stuff to- to attend to, after all."

 

He snatched up his crown and whirled out of the room, leaving only the click of his heels on the ground in his wake. The door slammed shut behind him.

 

There was a few seconds of quiet. Sans's shards clattered to the ground, echoing in the barren room. He stumbled back to the wall and slid down to the ground.

 

"Oh god. Holy _fuck_ , I- I'm so sorry, Grillby, _shit_."

 

Grillby couldn't help the quiet sigh of relief that came with no longer having the bone at his temple. 

 

"Sans, I will not deny that I am upset by your... Adeptness at interrogation, nor that I am in quite a bit of pain at the moment. However, I understand that you are here to protect your brother. I can't say I wouldn't do the same were it my daughter."

 

"Wait, _shit_ , the water."

 

Sans vanished and reappeared behind the chair, which was alarming, to say the least. He twisted off the dial, which was an immediate relief, then reappeared back in front of Grillby. 

 

"Alright. I'm gonna pull these out. It's gonna hurt like a bitch. You ready?"

 

Grillby tensed, then nodded. "Do it."

 

They did hurt, almost more than being stabbed with them initially. His fire immediately covered the wounds, but his HP was low and his arm still ached horribly.

 

"Here," Sans mumbled, reaching into his pocket. "I've, uh, got some food if you want it."

 

Grillby stares at the offered Starfeit, then glanced down at his bound arms, then back to Sans. 

 

"Wait, shit, sorry." He flicked his hand, and the cuffs easily popped open. Grillby's wrists and upper arms were blackened where the cold metal had dug in and compressed his fire, but that was ignorable with the prospect of food.

 

Sans leaned back against the wall as Grillby ate, staring vacantly at the filthy concrete floor. Grillby could feel the magic in the food working quickly, dulling the pain in his arms and chest. 

 

"What are you going to do, Sans?"

 

Sans tore his eyes up from the ground, but still didn't look Grillby in the eye. "I... I don't know. I'll help you get out of here, but after that..." His brow furrowed, as if he was deciding something. "Look, say I wanted to know more about all this. Where could I go to do that?"

 

Grillby gave him a long look. Would Sans sell them out? Would he tell Mettaton?

 

"I'm choosing to trust you right now. But," Grillby said calmly, standing and walking on stiff legs to Sans. "If you tell Mettaton, if you put my daughter in danger...

 

"I will not hesitate to kill you."

 

Sans stared for a moment, eyes empty. Suddenly, he laughed. "What's a few death and torture threats between old friends, am I right? No, I promise I won't say anything to Mettaton."

 

That made Grillby pause. Sans didn't promise things lightly. "Alright. Go to the bar. Knock on the back door to the tune of the song _Ring of Fire_. You'll get more information from there."

 

Sans laughed again, loudly. " _Ring of Fire_? Really? You'd think I made this plan. Now, escape won't be that hard. Come with me a moment."

 

They left the interrogation room. The hallway outside was sparkling clean, everything blinding white, shining metal, or hot pink. Every so often there was a vase full of golden flowers, or a life-sized statue of Mettaton's various forms.

 

"Well, he certainly spared no expenses, even for a place where people come in with hoods on their head," Grillby commented dryly.

 

Sans grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the end of the hall, away from the only set of stairs. "This way. I know a shortcut."

 

Suddenly, Grillby blinked and they were at the bar.

 

Around a wave of nausea and dizziness, he managed to force out, "Fast shortcut."

 

"Heh, yeah. They're pretty handy. I don't usually take other people, so consider yourself special."

 

"Of course." Grillby straightened up, mind clearing. "I need to go home. To be with my daughter and explain to her what happened." He walked to the door, then turned his head to Sans. "I hope to see you soon."

 

"You too, buddy. And hey, uh. Thanks. For trusting me."

 

Grillby simply nodded, and left.

 

\--

 

Days later, there was a knock at the door. _Ring of Fire._ Hands reached out and pulled the culprit in, shoving a hood over their head. They were lead down a trap door, through a dizzying maze of hallways. Finally, they were shoved in a chair, their hood torn off.

 

Sans grinned up at Grillby. "Guess it's my turn to be hooded and stuck in a chair, huh?"

 

Grillby merely stared at him.

 

"Right to the point, I guess. Alright."

 

Sans pointlessly cleared his nonexistent throat. 

 

"How do my brother and I join the rebellion?"

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
